


Merry Mystrade

by MiladyPheonix



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Advent 2019, Developing Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, M/M, Published from my Patreon, mystrade, off shoot of Tumblr advent challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25202440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiladyPheonix/pseuds/MiladyPheonix
Summary: An off shoot of last yearsTumblr Sherlock advent challenge. There had been so much support for the Mystrade chapters that I decided to combine them all into one fic. Originally posted to my Patreon but I miss the validation of AO3 notifications in my inbox LOL. Some Chapters are stand alone and the chronology is not fantastic but Here you go!
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	1. Snow

**Mycroft Holmes worked very hard to portray a studious dedicated civil servant so when his work day was blessedly interrupted by a text from Sherlock he had to acknowledge that ten years ago he would have been annoyed. Back then however there had been no John Watson to manage Sherlock’s usual chaos and certainly no Rosie Watson either.**

**_MH_ **

**_Your niece desires a snowman and while my skills are adequate to the task I acknowledge your own to be superlative in this regard. Kindly oblige at 221 Baker street at your soonest convenience. There may be cake._ **

**_SH_ **

**Rosamund Watson had become his family’s redemption. Though mostly she was his own redemption after the disastrous reintroduction of Eurus Holmes. That she was sweet natured, bright, and clearly adored Sherlock had turned what might have been considered simply an additional duty into a joy. He grinned as he remembered a time many years ago when a young Sherlock would marvel at his snow sculptures, not knowing that he had attended a campus social club to master the art.**

**“How does my morning look?” “Just Transport sir, urgent business?” A knowing smile met the solemn nod. The arrival of the Watson child in Mycroft’s life had started rumours he would go soft but he’d put those down with his famed icy efficiency. “Pressing family matter, call the car please.”**

**…**

**The trip to 221B had been quick. His personal staff had fortunately not engaged with the rumour mill and had all kept their jobs as a result. John had appeared flummoxed by his arrival at the flat before tea time and his brother had looked smug, so no change there when the driver dropped him off and waited patiently until he returned with the bundled up toddler. None of Mycroft’s personal staff would ever be so daft as to gossip though if his vehicle was suddenly stocked with child friendly snacks and the odd juice box; general acclamation stated that they had no idea where those items had come from Sir!**

**“Uncle Mycie are we making snowmen? Daddy asked Papa to take me but he said no, are you taking me instead?” “Yes. I’m going to make a snow unicorn for you, I used to make them for your Papa when he was little.” The unicorn would come together fairly quickly so long as they could find a suitable icicle and sufficient raw material for sculpture. “Weather report says it’ll be a clear day if you want to get out of the city sir.” His driver had children of his own so Mycroft redirected the vehicle to a park further out of the city as had been suggested, it would certainly have more snow.**

**…**

**The recumbent snow unicorn, complete with icicle horn had taken less than two hours, lifting a delighted Rosamund to pick the chosen icicle off a nearby tree had again reminded him of his little brother and he feared his age made him sentimental because he hadn’t set her down again. The trip back to London proper had been slow enough that Rosamund was napping by the time they returned to 221B. “You dropped enough hints Mycroft I trust the honey cake and the coffee chocolate squares will compensate you for your efforts.” Sherlock’s drawl quietened mid sentence when he saw the sleeping child in his brother’s arms. “You remember the unicorn brother dear. She picks a much more sensible horn than you ever did.” He turned to put the child to bed upstairs but John intervened with arms open to receive his daughter. “Get the kettle on will you ‘Lock, won’t be a minute.”**

**Sherlock made excellent tea, and the selection of cakes was predictably perfect. The napkins he'd left in his pockets over the preceding weeks had caused a few smudges but Sherlock’s pickpocketing habit did have some advantages. It would have only been a matter of time before the question of snow men arose and with a suitable means to compensate him Sherlock would have no qualms in calling on his skills. John had been predictably impressed at the photograph of the snow sculpture and the grinning child perched on it’s back and garnered a look so soft he had been forced to remind himself that the good doctor had in fact killed people in the past.**

**The morning had wound to a close most pleasantly he decided he would only go back to work after lunch.**


	2. Coping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft hasn't fixed his communication issues but he is coping.

**He made a quick scan of the CCTV around Baker street before clocking off and spotted the Watsons, daughter in her father’s arms, and Mrs Hudson heading off to church without Sherlock. Worried as always about Sherlock being alone for any evening he sent a quick text. To check up on his brother in the only suitable fashion. The east wind was no longer a simple matter or suitable for gaging his brother’s mental state but there was more than one way to poke a badger or indeed a dragon slayer.**

**_SH_ **

**_Not off to church with the family Sherlock? How does your good John handle living with a godless heathen over these holy days_ **

**_MH_ **

**A brief argument would distract Sherlock though he only had time for a brief one. Ella had pointed out during their one brief session that open simple communication was more beneficial for his relationship with his brother than riling him up to check the response but he genuinely wondered if John had been upset by Sherlock’s refusing to attend church and why change a formula if it works anyway. She had refused to understand that if he asked Sherlock a direct question all he was met with was evasion and misdirection. Their patterns were already established to change them now in times of so much turmoil would be disastrous and he needed to know how Sherlock was coping because… well, he just did.**

**_MH_ **

**_My Good John hardly needs to handle our differences in beliefs, my lack of faith has never been a cause of contention, it’s called Respect Mycroft. I understand you may be unfamiliar with the word, you prefer to lead your underlings through manipulation or intimidation and I choose to respect that. My partner respects me!_ **

**_SH_ **

**The response sent relief through his mind and he managed a deep breath. Very few people respected Sherlock like the good doctor and few people claimed as much of his respect or indeed his affections as the Baker street bunch. Having lifted his brother’s head from any maudlin contemplation he set off home, Gregory was on a late shift for month end paper work and stubbornly refused to allow Mycroft to reassign the task. He had to admire the man’s loyalty to his team, it was vital but he would have preferred to admire his Greg, in the ridiculous Christmas butcher’s apron he claimed was necessary to cook a gammon, or even soup. It sang and would have been added to the kindling bucket but there was a rich laugh in the kitchen every time Rudolph’s nose took a bump and Mycroft couldn’t part with the sound.**


	3. A Case and a pending conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I L O A T H E the way the family discussion over Eurus was dealt with in Cannon, so I fixed it.

**It had been a ridiculously simple case but Sherlock always managed to complicate things. Fortunately, Mycroft breathed a sigh of relief, John Watson was always present to uncomplicated matters and he was a very uncomplicated man when it came to little brother. If something threatened Sherlock John saw to it that the threat stopped. John Watson had been injured in the execution of his chosen duties but the sensible offer of an ambulance had been vigorously rejected by both men. A lift home seemed all they needed so it would seem as well that Sherlock indeed took instructions, if only when John’s health was compromised. A small charge appeared on his family credit card for the taxi fare and a take away. Hopefully they would have a quiet night in.**

**The taxi fare was not the first and certainly not the last charge he would incur from Sherlock. There had been a significant amount just two weeks ago. Two platinum rings had been first but the larger band had been switched for a more classic gold later on the same day. The switch had earned his brother a small nod as Dr Watson was clearly a traditionalist and gold would suit his complexion far better. Now it was just a case of waiting for the happy announcement and dealing with the fall out in his own life, not many knew of his and Gregory’s relationship and that was just fine with him for now. Should things proceed in line with their current heading parental disapproval of his lack of partner would soon be over. There was to be a long discussion of the family variety after dinner which he was worried sick about so John and Sherlock’s pending engagement announcement was a welcome distraction.**

**…**

**They were all going to be assembled at their parent’s cottage for Christmas again, after the previous disaster with Mary pregnant and Sherlock committing murder everyone had hunkered down for a while but Rosmund was more than old enough now to spend a Christmas away from home and the Holmes-Watson household, as Mycroft already considered them, had agreed to join the festivities.**

**He had arranged for additional sculpture material to be delivered and had gone up a week in advance, after checking the correct weather predictions and not the public ones. Another Unicorn was set in the front garden to greet his niece and he knew that Sherlock and John would grin at each other when they arrived but he would be late to the party and hoped that the snow sculptures would compensate Rosamund for his delay. He had spent a few afternoons working on them under the guise of tending pressing family matters at home. No one was fooled during this time of year but appearances needed to be kept in the official records of course.**

**“Mycie, Mycroft! Come indoors, there’s no light left dearie.” Mummy had a point as he sprayed another layer of water over a tentacle to stabilise the base. The ice was holding well and hopefully everything would be perfect for their arrival in two days time. He had to return to London each evening but always had a very quiet dinner with his parents. There had been no conversation regarding the obvious issue but his mother would usually chatter about anything for hours so the continued silence was especially loud. It was clearly going to all wait for Christmas.**


	4. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How it should have gone really.

**The front door banged and “Uncle Myc!” He heard Rosie run through the house. “Seasons Greetings Rosamund” Mycroft lifted her into his arms. “Seasons Greetings Uncle Mycroft" she replied in his formal tones, it was excessively adorable. “Thank you for the snowmen, again” She cuddled against his cold chest as he carried her to the kitchen to greet his parents, and exchange greetings with John and his brother too before he carried her outside to explain what each sculpture was.**

**Mycroft was holding Rosie at the drinks counter as he spoke softly of the various Greek myths he had scattered through his parents' garden when Mummy playfully scolded him from the doorway. “She's got legs Mycie, and they work". Mycroft had looked a bit surprised to still be holding Rosie who clung to him a bit more tightly. He had not been able to give her so much of his time to herself and she was clearly as fascinated by the stories of each sculpture as the younger Sherlock had been.**

**“Uncle Myc is telling me about the Hydra monster" She had reasoned with his mother in complete logic and he couldn't hide his grin. Mummy had sighed at that, a noise which had been common with Sherlock growing up. He heard John chuckle at him and found that he didn’t mind the doctor’s humour as Rosie brought out his softer side by reminding him of happier times when all Sherlock had needed to be happy was his big brother’s time and a few feet of snow. A quick glance over Rosamund’s blonde curls revealed his mother in the doorway and John leaning into Sherlock’s side all watching him smiling.**

**…**

**Dinner had been delicious and Rosamund really was a charming child, he had considered putting her down to play but his father had scooped the toddler into his arms at once. Mummy fed her dinner and Father had his traditional post Christmas lunch nap with the little one. It had been a balm to his nerves to see his family so content.**

**Once the little one was set down in a proper bed Mycroft anticipated the chance to talk. “Mother, Father, Brother mine, and John of course. I’m so very sorry for the problems I’ve caused and the pain over the last few years.” He turned to face his parents and Mummy locked him in an embrace, he froze rigidly, unaccustomed to the touch. “Mycie stop. It was wrong of Rudy to leave it all on you. My big brother was a good man but he tended to get lost in himself and forgot to look to those around him.” Sherlock chose that moment to broadcast the irony with a rather loud snort of laughter. “Brother dear apologies accepted.” “We’ll work on forgiveness.” He knew that he owed Sherlock more, perhaps even, than he owned his parents but there was time now.**

**John Watson was another concern as the shorter man approached. He had caused Sherlock harm and Mycroft knew John’s reaction to that, had relied on it himself many times over. “You’re a bit of a twat Mycroft but try not to stroke out on us okay. Have a seat.” He hadn’t realised he was shaking until the doctor carefully set him in his chair and monitored his pulse for a while. “John. I.” “Reckon I can’t punch you in the face at the moment seeing as how you look ready to fall over anyway.” He said but not unkindly. Name calling and threats of violence seemed terms of endearment in the Army if the soppy grin on his brother’s face was anything to go by. Maybe this coming year would be okay.**


	5. It's not simple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It really is but when you're smart enough to take Everything into account you unfortunately tend to do exactly that.

**His relationship with Gregory had been slow to start, so slow it almost hadn’t happened. He sat at the NSY New Years celebration and reminisced, Gregory was very drunk and he had been very drunk last year as well but Gregory had admitted later that it had been mostly nerves. Mycroft had sat in the seat next to Gregory, his suit freshly tailored for the DI, not for the yarders. Certainly not for the half dozen Metro management who kept trying to talk business. A glare sent them scurrying and had the added benefit of amusing the man beside him immensely.**

**John had obviously been concerned at first that his presence would interfere with Sherlock’s enjoying the party but the brothers had one of their usual nonverbal conversations, so handy those, and each had gone about his separate business. Mycroft remembered how Sherlock had observed him and his insides had frozen but a quick glance cast at Gregory confirmed that he had not noticed Sherlock’s attention being too busy slowly getting more drunk and blatantly enjoying Mycroft's deflecting Met Officials all evening to notice much else except Mycroft, perfection.**

**He had already confirmed by then that Gregory had not indulged in male companionship since University and a brief affair at the Met Academy, but Sherlock’s typical ham-handed pressure on the situation would have crumbled it into a disastrous mess. He had been attending the Met’s New Year's celebration as a minor government employee but the invitation had been amusingly addressed to the Sherlock Holmes Wrangling Team… John Watson had a way with words.**

**Mycroft had been so oblivious that evening he was surprised Sherlock had not hired a skywriter to advertise his interest but his brother had simply raised an eyebrow and dropped his chin in acknowledgment of the situation. He had been apprehensive but in hindsight Sherlock would never interfere with an arrangement that would keep his two most tireless, and Mycroft suspected, tiresome handlers occupied with each other, far too convenient to disrupt.**

**His relationship had given Sherlock a perfect opportunity to point out that caring did in fact have advantages but to this day it had not been taken.**


	6. The way it goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft always takes his folks to Boxing day and it always goes the same way. Can Tedium be comforting?

**That evening he was glad that the boys had recovered from the very discreet job he had sent them on a few days prior. A car had been dispatched to Baker Street and the lads had been deposited at the Diogenes club with a large breakfast to keep them busy while he set them up for the leg work. The mission brief had been brief and his brother’s childish glee had been excessive.**

**....**

**Sherlock of course disregarded the very meticulous instructions given to him but the medics had cleared them to go home after a brief encounter with the good doctor. Sherlock and John’s voices had carried out of the building when he had arrived to collect them and arrange a clean up team but Fortunately their hearing damage from the percussion grenade had cleared up before Christmas so he had not had to incur his mother’s wrath for adding injury to the insult done to his little brother.**

**Mycroft settled into bed that evening grateful that Mummy still maintained his old bedroom and the good grace to only point this out over the holidays. He had purchased his London apartment, only to use during the week, while fully intending to spend weekends at home after Mummy had ferociously extracted promises of visits. But the work grew more complicated as his career had advanced and the work mattered so weekends at home became every fortnight, then once a month or maybe twice a quarter until it was just this one night that he slept in his old room each year. Mummy still insisted that all cell phones be left in the study but he didn’t have work tomorrow as he always attended the Boxing day picnic with his parents, well for his parents.**

**He drove them to the event himself in his father's old Honda and although he could just call a driver, his parents stayed prohibitively far from London and he preferred to not have his employees buzzing around his family, Sherlock being the perpetual exception of course. He stayed while his parents chatted to aunts, cousins, and sundry hangers on he could never remember, he could barely keep up with their unceasing breeding.**

**Mycroft didn’t really enjoy the Boxing day event; he fielded impertinent questions about his personal life and tedious questions about his brother’s health but it made his parents happy. It also ensured that he had one day in the year when he just had to worry about his own family and not all of England. He still worried of course; about which elderly relatives were showing signs of dementia, cousins clearly being abused or having developed eating disorders. He gave Mummy a report every year in mid January as it gave everyone time to forget that that odd Mycroft Holmes had been in attendance and for her to get the family's assistance to those who needed it timeously.**

**He treasured his time at home and his jealous guardianship of this time was so well known in his frequent circles that requests for meetings had ceased entirely for the last week and any invitations that had been sent always seemed to have been placed in error.** **_Need not concern yourself Mr Homles the relevant person has been spoken to_ ** **.**

**Yes, It would seem even the insular world of international politics understood the sacrosanctity of time spent at home.**


	7. A brief Retrospective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick glance backwards and a brief glance at Greg!

**Mycroft sat in his office glaring mildly at his little brother. “So you have not said anything to the Detective Inspector?” It sounded like an accusation, which he had not intended but when Sherlock had shown up at his office he had expected to hear extravagant tales of his folly and Gregory's alarm “You’ve not said anything either!” Sherlock had retorted always on the defensive but his next words brought Mycroft up short. “Scared BrotherDear or hopeful?” Sherlock almost leered from his spot between the chairs, he never sat down in his brother’s office.**

**“Hopes and fears, tis the season I suppose" Mycroft stopped himself from fidgeting with items on his desk, it would give too much away of how badly he wanted this to work. Shockingly Sherlock's eyes softened at his brother’s rare display of nerves. “Was the season Mycroft, tis was the season. It’s now the season of new things, more hopes than fears… and silly people going to the gym for the next six weeks.” Sherlock tried to sound casual and unwind some of the tension in the air but he knew what he had seen at the New Scotland Yard New Years eve party, he knew what this could mean for his isolated big brother.**

**“Have you considered all the potential repercussions?" Mycroft tried to affect Sherlock’s casual tone but failed spectacularly, Sherlock looked so hopeful. Redbeard, Mycroft’s brain chanted to him, Redbeard Redbeard Redbeard. If this might harm his little brother in any way Mycroft knew that he would walk away from Gregory at once! “If it all falls apart it could affect your own relationship with Gregory, it could affect the work" He knew his eyes leaked his anxiety but he refused to close them, he was worried for more than just himself and Sherlock had to understand.**

**“Gregory?!” Sherlock perked up at the use of first names but subsided as big brother raised a quelling eyebrow, the look every older sibling learns must be a universal constant it says: “Stop it at once or face dire consequences.” quite succinctly. “I'm sure Lestrade wouldn’t let it put cases at risk and if it fails it simply proves you right, caring was not an advantage. But Mycroft what if it succeeds, a goldfish of your own?” Sherlock mocked his diction of the word but the concern in his eyes was apparent.**

**“Gregory Lestrade is a competent investigator and an intelligent man, not entirely a goldfish Sherlock” Mycroft edged out through gritted teeth, he was starting to find Sherlock’s interest in this personal matter tiresome, but his brother was in a happy relationship and had been with Dr Watson for quite some time now. John Watson was a rare man and Mycroft could only hope that he had found another, the DI and the Doctor got on well enough to suggest it.**

**“It’ll definitely fail" Sherlock’s bluntness set his brother’s heart racing and Mycroft realised he was gaping like a goldfish himself as his brother continued. “If you refuse to act" He finished smuggly as the redness faded from his brother’s outraged face. “Hope or fear Mycroft if you don’t try you’ve already failed"**

**“You sound like Father” Mycroft called as he watched his little brother sweep out of the room, that coat really did have far too much drama. He was loathed to concede that his brother and by extension his father had a point so he made sure his tasks were up to date for the day and then he took a deep breath, picked up his phone and dialled the number on a rumpled business card, it had been in his pocket for far too long.**

**“Mr Holmes?” The questioning tone stunned Mycroft into silence before Gregory continued, “My phone shows this number as A Minor Government Bore but Sherlock’s been at it so I can never know. Mycroft Holmes, isn’t it?” Mycroft was gaping again but pulled himself together as he cursed his little brother.**

**“Yes, it’s Mycroft, please call me Mycroft and one can never tell with Sherlock, yes" Mycroft smiled at the requisition order he had just approved. “Well, Greg then please Mycroft. What can I do for you? Is Sherlock okay?” Mycroft’s heart lightened at the concern is Gregory's voice, this man genuinely cared about his irrepressible sibling. “Sherlock is fine. Dinner, I mean I was wondering if you might join me for dinner some time this week?”**

**_Greg looked up at John who sat across from his desk. John had received a text from Sherlock saying he was leaving Mycroft’s office and blue eyes sparkled as he studied Greg’s red face. “Dinner. Dinner, yes sounds great… Saturday" Greg read John’s hasty scribble as he held it up. “You can send a car that’ll be lovely, I’ll see you then" Greg put the phone down and exhaled slowly as John clapped him on the back. “You’re in there mate" then, mission accomplished John turned to give his friend some privacy to recover._ **

**_“Not so fast Watson!” The panicked words raced him to the door. “A Holmes John I've a date with a Holmes! What do I do?!” John laughed quietly. “Shine your shoes and shave your face" He quipped with a shrug before closing the door behind him._ **


	8. Dream a little dream of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a horror warning, I am a Fannibal too so consider yourself warned. Not major violence unless you are a cake. Can be skipped.

**The evening had been wonderful, the meal delicious and knowing he would just have his own family to worry about the next day would have raised Mycroft Holmes to Nirvana but he knew such things didn’t exist. He had gone to bed supremely content but woke in a cold sweat.**

**The festive feast was the only thing he could think of, the sudden intake of far too much of Mummy's excellent cooking must have caused his always bizarre dreams to latch on to his anxiety regarding Gregory and his envy of Sherlock to such an outlandish result. It had been a feast of cupcakes, rows upon rows of them stood on long elegant tables with various gateau and multi-layered confectionery. Mycroft had wondered through the sugary landscape but frozen at the sight of Sherlock as he had never imagined him, excessively corpulent and wheedling a large knife.**

**John sat next to him smiling blandly and missing his left arm, shoulder, and a goodly portion of his chest. Mycroft almost fainted as John’s head rolled slightly against the chair, the doctor's body had been composed entirely of living cake! A slice of oatmeal iced cake sat on his brother’s plate, the cable knit clear on the frosting’s surface and icing smeared his brother's face, hands, and his suit. The suit was tailored to his fleshy dimensions but the cloth was filthy with icing and crumbs.**

**“He's just ate my heart" John stated cheerfully and Mycroft was nearly sick. “But there’s plenty to go around" John gestured with his remaining hand which Sherlock had promptly broken off and laid beside the slice of John Watson he had already carved out of the doctor's abdomen.**

**“Everywhere else Brothermine.” Sherlock’s voice was shockingly cold, there was no inflection in his tone as he carved up his lover. “There’s plenty everywhere else. You know a Holmes doesn’t share and we will obviously destroy what we want to love" Sherlock stuffed a few delicate fingers into his mouth before speaking around half chewed cake and falling crumbs. “Caring is not an advantage, and you must of course have all of him" A pallid hand waved to something behind Mycroft and he could barely make himself turn around, it all seems so real! He could smell the sugar in the frosting and the almond from the various marzipan flowers.**

**Mycroft’s heart had sunk into his bowels as a Cake-Gregory approached through the rows of sweets carrying a large knife, his knees nearly gave out as DI Lestrade stood in front of him smelling exactly like his mother’s vanilla sponge cream cake, down to his favourite, the raspberry filling. “I know you want my heart" Gregory had said smiling before he plunged the wicked knife into Mycroft's chest.**

**Mycroft shuddered at the memory and flung off the bed clothes, a brisk shower and a good book. It was much too early to be about the house so there was no hope of hot tea but there was no reason to stay in an empty bed. He eased himself to his feet as he was not sure if he could trust his legs after they’d almost failed in his dream.**

**Mycroft settled into the shower hoping the old water pipes didn’t disturb anyone. He would see**

**Gregory over new years at some Met event. He’d hoped for more then his usual five hours sleep but that was clearly not an option so he would make the best of this day with his parents.**


	9. Epilogue. The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, a fluffy fluffy epilogue because I cannot help myself.

**Greg had invited the Boys to join his team in a particularly vicious snowball fight before work restarted for the year. It was a good chance for the new year's recruits to meet Sherlock in a casual setting and for the old hands to get a shot in at the consulting detective and relieve some tension before the new year started.**

**He lobbed a snowball at what he estimated would be his brother’s position and heard John call a warning. He was on Gregory’s team with an idiot called Anderson and a few new recruits so their success would be especially galling to Sherlock. “Mycroft!” Sherlock sounded suitably outraged at seeing his big brother in the game. He rose from his running crouch, and the snow suit he wore suddenly felt a bit over the top.**

**“How’d you wind up here?” Sherlock stepped into his brother's space as Mycroft’s snow flushed cheeks blushed deeper. “Partners are allowed to join" Mycroft stated casually just before a well aimed snowball from Donovan’s position exploded on his chest. Sherlock called an urgent strategy meeting to recalibrate for his involvement and only the eventual loss of light allowed a draw to be called on the blood bath.**

**Gregory held the door as he got in and paused as Sherlock had caught his eye with a blatant warning look. “You had better watch out” Mycroft’s voice was contemplative. “That look is possibly the closest Sherlock can get to the typical break his heart and I’ll break your legs threat favoured by siblings everywhere”. He knew Gregory and Sherlock hadn’t had a conversation, of any decent length, about the relationship. “Did you give John that look then?” Greg asked but Mycroft just have him a chilling little smile. “I'd better behave myself then" “I should hope not.” Was Mycroft’s quiet response.**


End file.
